A Dangerous Destiny
by Aviation
Summary: What if the shot given to Rosemary, the previous receiver, had only put her in a state of unconsciousness? And what if, upon awakening, she finds herself in a seemingly alternate world? Just what IS her destiny? -On Hiatus-
1. Prologue

**A/N: This is kinda a random idea I thought up today. 'The Giver' fanfics aren't really my forte, but today I just felt like it so I hope somebody enjoys this.**

Summary:_ What if the shot given to Rosemary, the previous receiver, had only put her in a state of unconsciousness? And what if, upon awakening, she finds herself in a seemingly alternate world where everything is strange and new? Just what IS her destiny?_

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_Disclaimer: I do not own the character Rosemary or the idea for the Giver._

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Prologue

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Rosemary's POV

_I just couldn't bear it. There was too much pressure, too much pain and horror. I had no idea what my being released would do to the community. So when they brought me in to that small room, all I knew was that I had only a few moments left to live._

_"Are you sure about this?" they demanded of me every few seconds. Each time my answer was a calm, absolutely certain 'yes'. I wasn't the kind of girl that could stand up under this kind of misery. If our society couldn't bear its own pain and had to have -literally- the weight of the world rest on one person's shoulders, I no longer wanted to be a part of it._

_For a second, my intentions became unclear. Why was I leaving? I convinced myself that it was because nothing in my society was fair, but that wasn't true. I left because I wanted something more from life, more than just what I'd had then. And I was being released because I knew I could not get it._

_Then they brought out the syringe with the sharp tip at the end, filled with an ominous-looking liquid. Once, just once, I asked myself if I was completely and positively certainly sure. My conscience screamed 'NOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!' but of course its voice was so small that I forced myself to ignore it. 'Yes,' I told myself. 'This is the right thing to do.'_

_I pulled up my sleeve and the worker asked me one more time: "Are you sure?"_

_With an inward sigh of doubt, I gave my answer: "Yes. I'm sure."_

_So the man pressed the needle's tip to my skin and pushed on the syringe, allowing the liquid to enter my bloodstream. Suddenly, everything became surreal to me. I felt like I was floating outside my body as the darkness clouded my vision, threatening to envelope me. And then I slipped into the blackness, thinking to myself that I could never return._

**A/N: Ok, this was an odd beginning, but I think the plot's sort of neat. Warning: I will only continue if I get at least 3 reviews, otherwise I will delete this. If you liked it, PLEASE R&R!**


	2. In the Room of the Dead

**A/N: It took a while, but I DID get three reviews (not counting the one I posted :) ). So, thank you to Idalia Rentaria, trs, and LaBellaBella for reviewing, and I hope you like this next chapter.**

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_Disclaimer: I do not own Rosemary or the idea for The Giver._

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In the Room of the Dead

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Rosemary's Point of View

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_My eyelids were as heavy as bricks_ _and_ felt as if they had been glued shut. My mouth was parched beyond ability to speak. My limbs ached too much to move. But I could still hear.

I'm not quite sure how long it had been, but it seemed as though I'd been sleeping. And now I was in a cramped, dark, putrid-smelling place. Nice place to wake up to. ( --Sarcasm)

I could hear voices, but they were hushed. I strained my ears until I could pick up the sounds.h

"Whatcha thinking, Thom? We trash em or wha'? Wha's the best course-a-action in yo' mind?" The man's voice was thick, mean, and grimy, settling quickly, as though its owner were perfectly comfortable in this place.

The next voice was unmistakably younger and belonged, I deducted, to the one called Thom. It sounded nicer than the voice of the first man – much nicer. It also sounded unsure, but his speech was more refined. "I…uh…I don't rightly know."

"Well, take yo' best guess. And," there was the sound of leather on skin, followed by a yelp, "when ya addresses me, yo' calls me 'Mister Sempter, suh', y'all got that?"

"Y-yes, Mister Sempter, sir."

"Now wha' bout yo' _guess_?" Mr. Sempter demanded coldly.

"Um...I guess we dispose of 'em…Mister Sempter, sir."

_Dispose of what?_ I thought.

Mr. Sempter spoke again: "And _how_ does we git rid-a dead food and… the released… on days when th' dumpsters to th' is full up?"

I missed Thom's answer, for Mr. Sempter's words had struck me. How does one dispose of _the released_? As in, the _dead?_ Because if that's what he meant…and then I realized where I was.

I was in the Room of the Dead. And Thom and Mr. Sempter believed me to be dead. And they were planning on…disposing of me?

The thought horrified me, because, you see, I was quite sure that I was alive. Positive, in fact. But then came Sempter's next words.

"And if any of 'em wakes up, ya just clubs 'em on th' head wit' a stick," he laughed.

He probably hadn't meant it, but it horrified me. And so, I sat still. As the two… 'disposers' …began to walk towards me.

**A/N: So, how was it? I hope you liked it, even though it was still kinda short. Hopefully you like cliff hangers, or at least can stand them :) PLZ PLZ PLZ R&R R&R R&R R&R R&R R&R R&R R&R R&R R&R R&R R&R R&R !!**


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